There was a momentary
confusion of tongues, a thin line of skirmishers detached itself from the
compact front and pushed forward, followed by its diminutive reserves of
half a company each--one of which platoons it was my fortune to command.
When the straggling line of skirmishers had swept four or five hundred
yards ahead, "See," said one of my comrades, "she moves!" She did indeed,
and in fine style, her front as straight as a string, her reserve
regiments in columns doubled on the center, following in true
subordination; no braying of brass to apprise the enemy, no fifing and
drumming to amuse him; no ostentation of gaudy flags; no nonsense. This
was a matter of business.
In a few moments we had passed out of the singular oasis that had so
marvelously escaped the desolation of battle, and now the evidences of the
previous day's struggle were present in profusion. The ground was
tolerably level here, the forest less dense, mostly clear of undergrowth,
and occasionally opening out into small natural meadows. Here and there
were small pools--mere discs of rainwater with a tinge of blood. Riven and
torn with cannon-shot, the trunks of the trees protruded bunches of
splinters like hands, the fingers above the wound interlacing with those
below. Large branches had been lopped, and hung their green heads to the
ground, or swung critically in their netting of vines, as in a hammock.
Many had been cut clean off and their masses of foliage seriously impeded
the progress of the troops.
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